Of Smiles and Small Towns
by coffeeandcommunity
Summary: Four years later, you're amazed at how everything can change. Post-series Dawn/Mallory femslash. More detailed summary inside.


**A/N: Future-fic originally written for an LJ fic challenge community, and I decided to get all my fic out on this site as well. Post-series, during the summer before Dawn's senior year of high school and Mallory's sophomore year. Spoilers for the California Diaries series, and for #21, "Mallory and the Trouble With Twins;" #50, "Dawn's Big Date;" #126, "The All-New Mallory Pike." Dawn/Mallory femslash. If that is not your thing, then either open your mind or hit the "back" button. Sorry for the less than ideal formatting, and thanks for reading.**

Disclaimer: The Baby-Sitters Club series and the California Diaries series and all associated copywritted material are the property of Scholastic, Inc. and Ann M. Martin, and all other respective owners. This work is an interpretation of the original series/characters and is intended for entertainment purposes only, not profit, and constitutes fair use. In other words, please do not sue unless you would like to assume thousands of dollars in student loan debt. Yeah, didn't think so.

**Summary: **Four years later, you're amazed at how everything can change...

**Of Smiles and Small Towns **

You see her on campus at Stoneybrook Community College while you're visiting for the summer. It's much easier to visit then, while the climate is warmer, plus it helps when the heat in California gets unbearable. Mom and Richard talked you into taking a summer session dual-credit class, since they would be working and everyone else was already involved in other summer stuff.

You almost don't believe she's here, because she's a little young for SCC still, and because you haven't really seen her since you left for Palo City and she left for Riverbend. She'd have to be fifteen now, and boarding school really agrees with her, from what you can tell at a distance. The short bushy curls have grown out a little, barely down past her collarbone, and they've turned a beautiful auburn over the years. She's also learned to manage the frizz, and near perfect curls now frame her face, still as freckled as you remember. Apparently she finally wore her parents down, because the huge glasses are gone and the contacts make her blue eyes stand out even more. You never in your wildest imaginings would have considered Mallory Pike beautiful, but the evidence sits right before your eyes, nose buried in a book. Some things never change.

"Mallory?" Your voice comes out surprisingly breathy as you push the long blonde hair behind your ears.

She snaps her head up rather quickly, no doubt startled. Recognition slowly dawns in her eyes as she smiles, and you realize that the braces are gone as well, leaving behind a bright and flawless smile.

"Dawn!" She waves you over rapidly and invites you to sit with her. As you make your way over, she jumps up out of her chair and gives you a huge hug, holding on for several seconds. You catch a whiff of chamomile in her hair, which surprises you a little, but comforts you all the same. You and Mallory weren't exactly best friends or anything, but for those couple of years you had the BSC and other friends in common. It was only four years ago, but it sometimes it feels like a lifetime.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks excitedly. "Are you visiting your mom?"

"Yeah, actually," you say. "I'm here all summer. I'm supposed to be solving world hunger or something to boost my college applications, but I wanted to come back and see Mom and Mary Anne before the crazy we call senior year starts."

Realizing you've been rambling a bit, you tease, "What are you doing here? Getting a head start on college?"

Mal laughs and shakes her head. "No, I'm taking a creative writing workshop. I managed to talk my advisor into letting it count as a transfer credit for one of my English electives."

"So, you still want to be a writer?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Not horse stories, though. I outgrew those, thank God. I always wanted to write children's stories, and maybe I still will, but right now I'm leaning a little more towards young adult."

"So what are you doing at SCC?" she asks as she gives you a discreet once-over. Your appearance has changed very little since the last time you saw each other. Your hair is still the same cornsilk blonde, but it only goes down to the end of your shoulder blades now, instead of the small of your back, like it used to. You only wear a little bit of makeup because you like a more natural look, and you hate feeling like a painted Barbie. The style that your BSC friends once called "California casual" is still there, simply because you don't have the time or the energy to keep up with the biweekly trend changes featured in Seventeen. And while your eyes are still the same ocean blue, they probably seem so much older than seventeen.

"I'm taking a summer dual-credit course," you say. "It was Richard's idea, and the only way Dad would agree to let me spend the whole summer was if I did something useful for my college applications. Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take what I can get." As much as you love your family, every now and again you miss Disneyland Dad, who didn't put so much pressure on you, or remind you that you need to set a good example for Jeff and Grace.

"That's cool," Mallory says. "Are you doing morning or afternoon session?"

"Morning," you answer. "As much as I hate getting up early in summer, I'd rather get it over with. You?"

"Morning. It's easier for Dad to drop me off on his way to work."

Suddenly an idea takes shape, and before thinking you blurt out, "what about riding in with me? You live, what, two blocks away? It'd be so much easier, and you could sleep later, too."

Mal's eyes light up and she says, "Yeah, that sounds awesome. Thanks a lot, Dawn. Hey, what are you doing this afternoon?"

"Mmm, nothing really, just picking up textbooks from the campus bookstore. Why?"

"How about we have lunch together and catch up some more?" She asks shyly. "We can stay on campus or go out or whatever."

"I actually brought a lunch, but we could go to the cafeteria and sit together and eat," you tell her, then with a scrunched nose, whisper dramatically, "I wasn't sure what the food might be like. I didn't want to get stuck with a hot dog and fries."

Mallory laughs, really laughs, and says, "That sounds awesome," then grabs your arm and leads the way. You feel shivers up and down your arm, but shake it off and blame the cool Connecticut breeze.

Finding a table is relatively easy, considering the campus is barely half-full in summer and the two of you opt to sit outside on the patio. You both take out your lunches, look across at the other's, then burst out, "You're actually gonna eat that?"

In between laughs, you tease, "That is pure fat. Seriously Mal, ranch dressing, pizza, and fries? Gross."

"Oh, like yours is any better. What the hell is that gray crap anyway?" You're mildly surprised, but realize she's not eleven anymore. Thank God.

"That's tofu, Mal. You don't remember?"

"I knew you ate it, I've just never seen it," she shudders. It's so cute it makes you laugh, the way her shoulders shake and her nose turns up. You decide to keep bringing your lunch around, show it to her anytime you see her, just to get that reaction.

"It's actually really good," you say with a wicked grin. "It's full of protein, and no baby animals were slaughtered in the making of this product."

She doesn't say anything else, but dips a fry into the ranch dressing, swirls it around, then shoves the whole thing in her mouth. "Mmmmmm," she mumbles with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Sick."

"I'd wondered whether you were still into all that healthy crap. Guess I have my answer."

"Yeah, well," you shrug. "It's a lot easier now that everyone is on the organic fad, but I kinda miss everyone looking at my food like it was weird."

Lunch passes with more chatter about random things, and soon you're both piling into your midnight blue used Prius. You're both ready to go home, and Mal mentions how much her mother would love to see you. You'd like to see her too, the woman seemed to be everyone's mother, but you won't kid yourself that seeing Mrs. Pike is the only reason you want to go inside.

"Ready to take Moony here to Slate Street?" you ask.

"What? Who's Moony?"

"The car. That's his name."

"Why's it named Moony? Are you that into Harry Potter?"

"No…wait, what?"

She raises her eyebrows, "don't tell me you've never read it."

"Oh, Lupin. Yeah, I've read it."

"But seriously, what's with the name?" It's a well-known fact that every car in Stoneybrook has a name and a story. There's the Pink Clinker, the Junk Bucket, and who knows how many others. It's only fitting that she wants to know Moony's story.

"My friend Ducky named it. He said that a hippie car should have a hippie name," you laugh wistfully as you talk about your California friends, the ones you'd been through hell and back with, multiple times. "That was before everyone and their mother wanted one. So he named it Moonbeam, which is totally ridiculous but that's Ducky. Everyone got tired of Moonbeam, so our friend Amalia named it Moony and it stuck. Ducky's at UCLA anyway, so he wasn't too devastated, no matter how much he pretended to be."

Mallory is laughing in the passenger seat at your crazy friends, and you've both told several more stories by the time you pull into the driveway of the Pike's house. The place looks just like you remember, neat (mostly) but busting at the seams. There's a basketball goal over the garage now, and the beginnings of a skateboard ramp just inside the open garage door. You follow her into the house and notice that the inside isn't full of stray toys and Barbie dolls anymore. But you do see a couple of iPods sitting on the coffee table, a skateboard propped against a wall in the entry, and a few pairs of shoes kicked off behind the couch, everything from Chuck Taylors to kitten heel sandals. You're pretty sure you could go to the rec room and see at least one Rock Band set.

Everyone's in the kitchen and you're bombarded when Mal comes in and says, "Hey Mom, Dad, look who I found!" Mr. and Mrs. Pike look the same, maybe with a little more gray hair from having five teenagers and three preteens. The triplets (who are fourteen now) are gangly and trying their hardest to become jocks by eating nearly everything in sight, Nicky (Nick, not Nicky, Mal whispers) is a brooding twelve year old skateboarder, and Vanessa at thirteen looks every bit the thirteen year old that Mary Anne (post-makeover) used to be. Eleven year old Margo is dominating the conversation at the table about Washington Mall and she's dressed just like Mal at that age (cute but not exactly sophisticated), and Claire, now nine, is wearing jeans with a hole in the knee, an old pair of Chuck Taylors, and a soccer jersey that practically scream mini Kristy Thomas.

The second thought makes you laugh out loud as Mal drags you upstairs into her bedroom. She apologizes over and over for her family, but you're used to it by now. Really, sometimes you kinda miss the crazy. You hang out a little longer, talking about everything and nothing, and leave feeling younger than you have in years.

The two of you eventually settle into a routine. You wake up, get dressed, drink a cup of organic coffee with breakfast and check your email. Then you ride over to Pike Place (your nickname for the Pike house) and Mal gets in and you continue the fifteen-twenty minutes to SCC. You drop her off at her class, then park and walk to yours. After your class lets out, Mallory is usually waiting for you in the hallway, and the two of you walk to the cafeteria. She scrunches up her nose at your latest tofu combination, you laugh at how much she hates an inanimate food. At least, that's what you tell her. You also laugh because seeing her varying expressions makes your heart skip a little, and you're not sure what that means.

On Fridays, as a treat, you get up early and go to the new Starbucks that just opened in Stoneybrook last March. It's not fair trade, but you'll take what you can get. Mallory orders the cinnamon dolce latte, while you get a soy latte. Mal teases you each time by taking off her cup lid and licking a bit of whipped cream. Once, you swiped some of the whipped cream on your finger and smeared it on her nose, laughing so loudly that the businessmen in line looked over and rolled their eyes, while the baristas smiled.

One day after class and lunch the two of you are laying on your backs underneath a large tree on campus, watching the clouds. Neither of you say much, but it's a comfortable silence, until Mallory murmurs something that you can't quite catch.

"Hmm?" You ask lazily. The bright sun is making you relaxed and happy, like your California childhood.

"You're not independent," she repeats louder, and it only confuses you more. "At least not like I thought you were."

You turn to look at her with a quirked eyebrow, and tease, "It's nice to know you think I'm so needy and dependent."

"Dawn-," she cuts herself off with an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, I'm sorry," you say, hating seeing her upset, but also hoping to keep her happy. She's prettier when she smiles, but you also know that she's so much like you can be, patient and tolerant until she hits a wall, then she'll snap and it's quite the sight to see. You remember her patience with her siblings and other charges, but other classmates and sometimes even BSC members got the wrath of Mallory. Now you notice she doesn't try as hard to be patient with her siblings (at least the teenage ones; she still unendingly patient with Claire, Margo, and sometimes Nick), and that her humor has the sarcastic overtones that she wasn't confident enough to use in middle school.

After a moment of hesitation, she tries again. "It's just that we always called you 'individual' and 'confident' but you're not. You're just…you. You're not that independent, not like I had built up in my mind. I think we thought you were so independent because you were more independent and confident than we were back then. And you didn't seem to care what people thought about you when you ate organic crap or when you fought Kristy over something. But now…"

She's biting her lip now, a nervous habit of hers that you find endearing until you begin to wonder why exactly you're staring at her lips so longingly. Finally her voice breaks through again.

"You are still independent, and unique, and all those things, but you're more human," Mal reasoned, "and somewhere inside, at some point, you must have been insecure and cared about what people thought."

"You-You're right," you stutter, shocked that she's nailed you completely without even realizing it. "But here's the thing. I did care about what other people think. No matter how much I try to deny it, I still do. But I don't want what everyone will think get in the way of enjoying my life and the things I love. I'm a people-pleaser. I waver a lot between what I want and what other people want for me. I want everyone to be happy and to get along, and sometimes do stupid things to make that happen. But I've learned that sometimes you can't make people happy, no matter how hard you try. My parents, Sunny, Maggie…I just have to focus on what makes me happy and do that, instead of trying so hard for everyone else." Because there are some people you just can't save, you complete mentally, your mind turning inexplicably to Sunny and Maggie and the year you turned fourteen, your first year of high school, when the world crumbled beneath your feet.

You can tell by her face that Mallory wasn't expecting something so deep, but there's an understanding behind her eyes, like she knows exactly what you mean.

"I guess Riverbend's changed me too," she said, still biting her lip and playing with a blade of grass. "I always was the one who kept order at home with my siblings, had my own friends and did my own thing. I was mature, and responsible, and I had my moments of confidence. But I was also insecure, especially when I first transferred. The girls seemed like snobs that I'd never be good enough for, or pretty enough and you know how much I'd always wanted to change my appearance anyway."

At this she laughs ruefully, and suddenly you're taken back in time, back to Washington Mall when you were thirteen and she was eleven. The BSC had gone to the mall, and you, Mal, and Jessi got your ears pierced that day. Mallory was the one that pushed for it, and you wavered until the last minute, and then decided to get two holes in each ear. She got her braces and that awful haircut that year, too, but it was stylish at the time, and that's what she wanted, so you were supportive. The thing you remember most is the idea that she wanted to become The New Mallory Pike. The result lies next to you on the grass, with auburn curls that you want so badly to run your hands through, and a perfect smile. Today she's wearing her cute little black square glasses (her new contacts won't come in for another three days), with mascara and tinted pink lip gloss. The awkward ugly duckling is gone and the swan is finally emerging, but more than anything else, you love the person The New Mallory Pike has become.

She stops laughing and continues in a way that makes you think she hasn't ever shared this before, with anyone. "Well, I finally got contacts, and the braces came off, and my suitemate showed me how to work with my hair, and my RA helped me start experimenting with makeup. But I still found things wrong with me, like my freckles and my nose. And a whole bunch of other things. I always idolized you guys and when I turned thirteen and didn't feel any different, or any happier, I was disappointed. But then I realized that, as cheesy as it sounds, no matter how old I was or if I suddenly had long sleek blonde hair and a perfect face, if I didn't like myself, exactly as I am, that I'd never be happy. Once I started to, it was like everything fell into place. I was more confident and made friends more easily, and I got more involved at school. And yeah, I'd still get a nose job if someone offered me the money. And I still hate my freckles, but for the first time ever, I love me. And it feels amazing."

You look over, amazed at how far she's come. You take her hand as you sit up and say, "I'm so glad I came back this summer. It's everything I hoped it would be."

Mal snorts as she follows suit, disbelieving. "You mean you actually missed this place? When you have California? Seriously, Dawn, are you sure there's not something else all-natural in that tofu?"

You burst out laughing at her joke and finally decide to tell her what you haven't told anyone else: the truth. "Yeah, I did. At first I didn't, because I was finally back where I wanted to be, with my brother and my new little sister. I hated being away because I felt like I was missing watching them grow up, and I knew that Jeff would be in high school before I could blink and Grace would be starting kindergarten without really knowing me at all."

You pause and look over at Mal, whose blue eyes are even brighter underneath her tears. Now you feel about two inches tall.

"Mal, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No, I'm fine," she says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know what you mean though. Keep going, please." She squeezes your hand for support, the hand you didn't realize you were still holding.

"Plus, Sunny needed me more than ever with her mom dying, and I knew I'd never forgive myself if I wasn't there. When school started that fall, upper school changed to eighth through twelfth grade, so we started high school early. And then Sunny started spiraling out of control and everything with Maggie and it's just been one thing after another for years. Dad and Carol still try way too hard to be the perfect family for Grace. Senior year's starting soon, and I'm just so tired. I'm tired of trying to keep up with life, of waiting for the next shoe to drop. I'm tired of being seventeen but feeling so damn old."

By now the tears are streaming down your face and you feel Mal's hand slip from yours, only to have her wrap her arms around you and draw you close. You're sobbing in earnest at this point, with your head on her shoulder as she runs one hand up and down your back and the other one strokes your hair. The way she's whispering, "It's okay, I'm here, you're gonna be okay" reminds you vaguely of how she used to comfort Lucy Newton so long ago. You ought to be ashamed, but no one's comforted you this way in years and it feels too damn good.

As your sobs subside you feel her press a kiss to the top of your head, and she pulls back just slightly to tuck your hair behind your ears and wipe away the rest of your tears. You look up at her eyes, so full of compassion and another emotion you can't quite place, as you continue. "I decided to come back for the summer to clear my head. I called Mom in April, and Dad blew a fuse because apparently I needed to think about college, but everyone compromised. I really did want to see Mom and Mary Anne for a while, but also hang out with the BSC. They'll be starting college next year too, so I didn't want to blow my last chance for a while. And somehow it's simpler here, and things actually make sense."

The two of you sit there like that for what feels like forever, but is really only an hour because she'd promised her mom that she'd watch Claire during the triplets' practice. You drive home in silence, and when you stop at her house she hugs you one last time and places a kiss to your forehead before going inside.

It's while you're lying in bed that night that you realize that something isn't quite right with you and Mallory. She's been overly affectionate with you in the past few days, and seems to enjoy it as much as you do. She's always so playful, almost flirty in an endearing way, especially at lunch and Starbucks. She never talks about boys anymore, but then again, neither do you. You've been on three dates in the last four years, all of which were set-ups by Maggie or Amalia. You doubt she's dating anyone, because she'd be out on dates instead of spending all this time with you. Maybe you're spending too much time together. But really, Mal's the only one of the BSC girls who has this much free time.

Not only has Mal been more affectionate, but you've noticed weird things about yourself, too. Today when you noticed her lips and it scared you. You still admire how good the last four years have been to her appearance, every chance you get. The way you held her hand this afternoon, and the way you felt when she held you. Your stomach flips every time she laughs, and the way her nose scrunches up every time she looks at your tofu lunches. The last time your stomach flipped that much was your first kiss, with Logan Bruno's cousin Lewis—

Oh. My. Lord.

The thought makes you sit upright in your bed in a cold sweat. There's no way…is there? It's not like you've never been around it. Growing up close to L.A., you've seen your share of Pride, and currently the battle over Proposition 8 is taking shape. You've never been against it, ever. You admire people who have that kind of strength, to be true to themselves even when it seems like the whole world is against them. You just never thought of yourself as one of those people.

Sleep came fitfully that night, and the next three nights after, but realizations came in one after another. The first was that you'd always had a soft spot for Mal, even at thirteen. Hell, maybe even before, as you recalled how much you liked baby-sitting the Pikes with her before she joined the BSC, and how you would gossip and laugh around the kitchen table. You also realize that you've never really been that into guys, not like the other girls always were. The only time you'd ever really been interested in guys was when they made you feel special or you just didn't want to feel left out and alone (insert Lewis Bruno). Back when you first moved to Stoneybrook, you remember lunch one day with Kristy, Mary Anne, Stacey, and Claudia and how they talked about boys. Your exact thought was, "Stacey and Claudia love boys. Kristy and Mary Anne thought they were dumb. I'm still deciding." How ironic.

The final realization was that you want more. You're tired of wondering what Mal's lips felt like, and you want to give in to the urge to run your hands through her curls. But you're also afraid of losing her, because what if she doesn't feel the same? She's always been more open-minded than most, but what if she just couldn't handle it? Couldn't handle you? And what about everyone else? You remember how big of a deal it was when the Ramsey family moved here, all because they were black. They got over it once they realized their racism, but you doubt it will be as easy to heal from this. Being black was one thing, but would they think the same thing about being gay? And what about Mom? That would probably hurt the most.

Today is Friday, and you realize you'll have the house to yourself for the night, since Mary Anne and Kristy will be at Claudia's for their annual Bradford Court reunion sleepover weekend, Richard is out of town on business, and Mom and Granny were going to one of those weekend spa places. So on a whim, you invite Mallory to spend the night, and she says yes, that her parents will probably say yes, and they decide to a real sleepover with pizza, movies, and pillow fights. Only after you drop her off at Pike Place does it occur to you that a) you haven't had a sleepover like this since eighth grade, and b) having the girl you're falling for in your house all night might be an awful idea. You bake a personal size tofu pizza and order a personal size pizza with her favorite toppings and wait for her to arrive.

Mal arrived at seven, and after eating the pizzas (complete with you feeding her a slice of tofu pizza and Mal pretending to gag), you settle in to watch movies. Mallory brought over "Parent Trap," both the old and new versions, and you're pleasantly surprised that she remembered it was your favorite. You watch them both, and throughout the second one especially you find yourself reminded more and more of her. Maybe it's young Lindsay Lohan's freckles or red hair (even though Mal's was never quite that bright and had more brown in it), but you see the kid she was and the teenage girl she's become. As the movie ends, you lean in to ask Mal if she wants to watch another movie, but before you can force the words out you notice that she's leaned in too, and there's that look in her bright blue eyes from the day on campus when she held you, the look you couldn't decipher. You watch your hand trail through the curly auburn hair you've been thinking of for weeks almost as though it was completely disconnected from your screaming mind and pounding heart. You lean in just a shade closer and hesitate, knowing what is about to happen and yet not knowing what this will mean, when suddenly she reaches forward to place both hands on your face, and to close the distance between your lips and hers.

Your body tenses and relaxes equally at the first touch, and the kisses that started gentle become increasingly passionate and desperate. You pull back to take a much-needed breath and suddenly the filter between your mind and mouth collapses completely.

"Mal, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, and I'm not even sure you like girls that way, and I can only imagine what you think of me—"

Mallory laughs then, a breathy, soft sound that could fill you completely and yet it'd never be enough, then softly brushes your lips again before she speaks.

"Dawn," she murmurs, raspy from the lack of air. She pushes the now wild blonde hair behind your ears as she crawls in your lap, effectively straddling you. "I know what came over me. You. And did you forget the part about me going to boarding school?

You smile slightly, because whatever you were expecting, it definitely wasn't this. And thirty minutes later, hearts still racing, the two of you are spooned together in your bed, her back to your front. She's drifting off in your arms as another random movie flickers on in the dark, but worry still clings to the recesses of your mind. And just as you think she's asleep, she shifts in your arms just enough to face you and you realize she senses something of your inner turmoil.

"Dawn, go to sleep," she mumbles, barely conscious. "Don't worry about it, just one day at a time."

At that she falls asleep completely, and for once in your life you decide to take her advice and your own. You choose not to worry about what will happen when you both leave in September, or how everyone will react, and just enjoy holding the sleeping beauty in your arms. And when you finally drift off, you sleep through the night for the first time in a week, and sleep easily for the first time in years.


End file.
